Karl Klockars

I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole “apply to be an alderman” thing that the Mayor threw out there a while back.  I mean, yes, I’ve been continually (yet very quietly) organizing my campaign for about the last 4 or 5 years.  I think maybe a dozen people know about it at this point.  Like I said, I’m building slowly.

I’ve had a number of ideas and plans and propositions and such for my campaign, I’ve had slogans and some really great signs made upon my behalf.  I have taglines and everything.  Please see the “I’m Not a Scumbag.  Yet.” brainstorm from a few weeks previous.  I haven’t gotten to the campaign finances yet but if I could make a cheap Youtube Video about Catcher in the Rye being hijacked by movie studios then dammit, I can come up with something clever to make my ass some cash.

Since the announcement of the help-wanted ad (which, I hasten to add, I’m not even eligible for since they’re not even in my ward and even if I moved there all willy-nilly, I’d have had to live there for a year previous anyways, so there’s really no point in blueskying about this but to hell with it) I’ve also had a considerable amount of time to think about all the reasons why I wouldn’t want to be in this particular class of AlderPeople.

And there they are:

1) Nobody likes the new guys.

If the Mayor just plugged in a couple people he liked and knew this wouldn’t really be an issue.  But I’ve been the new guy in a few places and if you get any outreach from anyone, it’s from the loser’s lunch table that just needs another person to round out their afternoon card game of “War” or something else that’s not as cool as poker.

And if things are that bad at the high school lunch table for the new guy, just imagine what the Chicago City Council must be like.  I bet no Alderman would ever dream of trading their potato chips with the new councilman for a few Oreo’s.  It’s just not done.

2)  You’ll get nothing.

There are only so many dollars up for grabs in the Chicago council, and now that there’s two less alderpeople that’s just another few million that can flow into other wards.  And who’s going to want to give those up to a couple people that nobody don’t know from nothin’?

The two new AlderApplicants will show up, collect a paycheck, maybe try to do something good for their ward, and will then summarily get zilch.  No help from anyone.  The pile of scraps just big enough for a few wolves, and the new cubs in the room ain’t gonna have it to fight for them – unless Mayor Daley puts in someone like R. Kelly or Buddy Guy.  Someone like that with just a little bit of clout might get a few bucks, or their next tune will be “Daley Ain’t Givin’ Me Shit” and it’ll fly up the local iTunes rankings.

3)  I really am not interested in doing the Mayor’s laundry.

That’s what the new guys have to do, right?  Pick up the dry cleaning and probably do stuff like grocery shopping?  I mean, I know how to use Peapod and all that but really, I don’t have the time to run his shirts down to Bridgeport and back every few days.

4)  You get all of the shit with none of the perks.

Sure, you’ll end up with a pension at some point in the future, but is it really worth it for having to walk outside in your ward and have everyone around you wonder why the hell their sidewalks aren’t fixed and why the streetlights don’t turn on and the street sweeper doesn’t come around so much any more.

Oh, wait – this is Chicago and 99% of the city wouldn’t recognize their Alderman if he fell asleep on your shoulder on the CTA.

Regardless, maybe I’m giving people too much credit (and especially government workers) but I like to think that I’d have a hard time facing the citizenry knowing that I’m filling a seat and not doing much else until the next election and The Man just puts in who they want.  But that’s just me.

5)  To be honest, I don’t have the ego.

From everything I’ve heard, there are a lot of inflated heads wandering around the hallowed halls of government.   Part of me believes that that is a good thing.  It’s hard to effectively govern when in the back of your head you’re hearing a voice that says “but what if you’re wrong?”

Maybe a better word is self-confidence, but certainly that leads into ego eventually.  And each and every vote would be met with “but am I doing the best thing I can for the city?”  Which one would hope is a thought that runs through every alderperson’s head at every vote.  I believe the real thought that scans across their grey matter is a lot more like “I know this is the right thing” or at least “I know this is going to work out best for me.”

Beyond that, I have heard stories about aldermen who essentially sit in thrones at their offices, who embroider their initials on everything, who rule over their fiefdom with all forms of haughtiness and hubris.  And I can’t be that guy.  Which is sad, because I’m sure all these egomaniacs will never be voted out of office.

Sadly, being arrogant sells in most societies.  It’s a survival mechanism of sorts – no one else is going to be your booster more than you are, so why not use a little bit of bluster to benefit yourself?  I am willing to admit that I lack that kind of personality trait.  I’m fine with it.

Back to the grind I go, slaving away in a life of obscurity and relative low profile.  Buy at least the laundry I do will be my own.